I Hate Him
by egyptianmyth
Summary: Written before I saw "Crash and Burn," this is my take on why Hank was in that bar


Title: I hate him Disclaimer: Don't own the show, wish I did Summary: My take on why Hank was in the bar in "Crash & Burn" (This was written before I saw the episode)  
Sara stormed into Hank's hospital room, the bag of crack dangling in her hand as she went, carelessly. She slammed door, her angry eyes staring down at the wired up form of Hank, the ME that she for rare 5 minute intervals considered cute. With stitches and a black eye, broken ribs, and the sore throat that came from having tubes stuck down him daily. He was barley conscious, and too sore to want to speak, she knew, so she would yell at him and save them selves both the trouble. His good eye squinted open at her when he came in, and he knew already that he wanted to run and hide. "Drugs Hank? DRUGS?!" She waved the evidence bag filled with his crack accusingly. "Sarah..." he choked. "You were in that bar, getting your CRACK! I've eaten there, Hank. YOU took me there! You took me to the place were you BOUGHT YOUR CRACK and rubbed my face in it!" He sighed, trying to choose his words so that he could speak as little as possible. "I've never done crack." Sarah looked like she was going to explode. "Right. Never done crack. Really? Because we found 3 bags of this in your clothes alone when they checked you in. And, it looks like crack to me Hank. It really does. And when the neurotic experts on my shift tells me that it's crack, and it looks like crack, I'm pretty convinced that it is crack, Hank. And when I checked your tox levels when we found this, you were practically O.D.'d, Hank. So Hank, how many you been stoned when we went out?" "Sarah...never... never for you." "And what about the dealing. Hank, what about that?" Hank's eyes grew large. He knew he was screwed. "You actually look surprised. You've known me long enough. Hell, you met me on the job. You should know by now that when I find a lead, I follow it all the way through. We interviewed the barkeep, and the regulars that survived. All of them say that you sell your goods to the guys behind the counter and anyone there who wants it. Not to mention the alleyways of the convenience stores by three of Vegas's collage campus's." "I haven't done that for months. I..." "That's supposed to make me feel so much better, right? You've been in my home! You know my phone number! I've been with you in public, and in very trust-requiring situations! I've told you things..." She paused, looked down to her shoes. "You know things...no one else does..."Then her eyes darted back up towards him. "And you're a drug dealer, Hank! You sell death! You use it! That's you're hole world!" "I'll stop for you Sarah!" He yelled as he held up his hands in defense. "The only reason you'll stop, Hank, is because you'll be in jail. Your career is over. Any kind of a chance at a career is over for you. I will make sure that you get the maximum sentence for possession and dealing of an illegal substance, that is, after the board of directors is done with you. I'll do anything just to make sure I don't see your disgusting face again..." "Sara...don't do this...you don't--" Hank moaned. Sarah held up a finger to cut him off. "I've had enough of you. Of any thing you have to say...you bastard." She flailed the bag of crag at him and grabbed her jacket in one swift movement, and then stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Grissom was in a chair outside of the room-he must've know she'd be in there with Hank. He got up to greet her, but was practically bulldozed by Sarah's mad and oblivious plow to the nearest exit. He stepped in front of her again, her head still down, looking down at her feet in an attempt to not look at him for fear she might start crying. "Sarah! Sarah, what's wrong?" He asked, solid concern in his voice. "Arrest him. Arrest that bastard!" she replied in a choked whisper. She in a big breath, "the drugs were his." She let it out in a choppy, slow exhale that told Grissom that tears were coming. "Oh Sara..." he said as he took her into her arms. "I'm so sorry." She began to cry into his shoulder, her small, jagged shoulders wracked with sobs. "I hate him! I hate him!" she cried, her words muffled in his cloths. Grissom held her a bit closer then. "I know," he said soothingly as he stroked her head. "I know." 


End file.
